Mia shook her head vigorously. “You’re our guest.”
Dr. Lee gave his daughter a surprised glance, then smiled at him. “Welcome to Las Anclas,” he said again.
“Thank you so much for the eggs, Dr. Lee. Oh. And for saving my life,” Ross added hastily.
Dr. Lee accepted his thanks, then tapped the platter with his fork. “Dig in.”
It was the first hot meal Ross had had in more than a week. He was too hungry to savor it until he’d wolfed down half his burrito. But after that, the eggs were as good as he’d imagined. So were the warm biscuits with fresh butter and sweet, nutty mesquite syrup. The side dish of tangy purple stuff was delicious too. As he polished it off, Ross had the sense that he was being stared at. He met Mia’s fascinated gaze.
“What?”
“You liked Dad’s eggplant–goat cheese kimchi?” She indicated the purple stain on his plate.
“Fantastic.”
“Our guest has good taste,” Dr. Lee observed triumphantly.
“Dad likes to experiment.” Mia looked down at her own kimchi. “Want another helping?”
“Sure you don’t want it?”
“More fun to watch you eat it.” Giving a teasing look to her father, she tipped her kimchi onto Ross’s plate.
Ross inhaled half of it before he remembered that there were other important things beside food. “Dr. Lee, is whatever you used to heal me something I can trade for?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
He paused, a forkful of eggplant halfway to his mouth. Dr. Lee seemed to be hinting at a Change power, and the sheriff had been Changed. Still, it would be safest to let the doctor himself mention the word—or not.
“It’s my Change power. But it’s not exactly a healing power, if you’ve come across something like that before.”
“Yeah, I met someone once who had kind of the opposite of that. She could make people sick.” Ross crunched a clove of pickled garlic. “She said she Changed when she got pregnant.”
“Did she lose her baby?” Mia asked, suddenly serious.
“I don’t know. I met her at a trading camp. Never saw her again.”
She pointed to a painting on the wall, of a laughing woman with curly black hair and Mia’s small nose. She said softly, “My mother Changed the second time she got pregnant. She died. So did my baby brother.”
Ross had no idea what to say, but Mia was watching him as if she expected a response. He muttered, “I’m sorry.”
“Pregnancy is the most dangerous time to Change.” Dr. Lee’s voice was low and gravelly. He was looking at the picture, not at Ross. Then he coughed and wiped his face with a napkin.
When he turned back to Ross, his voice was brisk. “The Change is set off by chemicals in your body called hormones. Women have hormonal surges when they get pregnant or go through menopause, so they can Change then if they were born with that potential. When babies are born Changed, it’s because their mother’s hormones affected them during pregnancy. And, of course, both men and women can Change during puberty, when hormone levels rise.”
Mia scooped up a purring calico cat. “Dad, I’m sure Ross knows all this already.”
“I don’t,” Ross said. “I mean, I knew when people can Change, but not why. What did you mean, ‘born with that potential’? Some people say you inherit the Change, but you can have two Changed parents and still be a Norm.”
“Well, you don’t inherit the Change, per se,” Dr. Lee explained. “You inherit the potential to Change. But that doesn’t mean it’ll happen. Plenty of people could Change, but never do. And unless both of their parents are Changed, there’s no way to tell in advance whether or not a person has the potential.”
He went to the windowsill and brought back a potted tomato plant dotted with green fruit the size of olives. “As for my own Change, I was born this way, and that’s why I trained as a doctor.”
He poured his glass of water into the soil, then touched the plant. Tiny leaves unfurled and stretched out, and the little fruits swelled and blushed red.
“Ow.” Dr. Lee winced, then rubbed his forehead. He took a deep breath, and his face relaxed. “I can speed up time for living things. What I did for you was age your body to the time when your wounds would have healed. That’s the good news.”
Ross looked doubtfully at the tomatoes, now ripe and scarlet. The cat in Mia’s lap batted at them. “There’s bad news?”
She pushed the cat to the floor and began to pluck the tomatoes. “You’re two months older than you were yesterday.” She put them in a basket. “We didn’t miss your birthday, did we?”
“I don’t know,” Ross admitted. “I don’t know when I was born.”
Mia went on, “Dad, you were right about his hand. He can’t grip a wrench.”
Feeling a strange sense of shame, Ross turned his wrist over to hide the scar. But Dr. Lee was looking into his eyes, not at his arm.
“Some healing needs more than the passage of time,” he said. “I can give you a set of exercises for your hand. Do them every day, and you should get some of your strength back.”
Ross’s heart sank. “Only some? How much?”
“Ross, I wish I knew,” said Dr. Lee. “Sometimes it’s harder not to know than to hear bad news. I think you’ll be able to use it again, but I doubt that it’ll ever be as strong as it was.”
Though the doctor’s expression was grave, Ross felt better. “Not as strong as it was” wasn’t so bad; he’d been pretty strong before. As long as he could grip and strike with it, he’d be fine.
“How long before I can make a fist?” Ross asked.
“Could be a while. Be patient. So, what brings you in this direction? Anything interesting going on in the wider world?”
“I’m a prospector. I don’t go to towns much.”
“Found anything worthwhile?”
Ross sneaked a look at Mia, to find her giving him an equally furtive look. “Nothing special.”
Mia began stacking plates with so much force Ross expected them to chip. “Great burritos today, Dad!”
“Where do you come from?” Dr. Lee inquired.
Questions made Ross wary. But Dr. Lee sounded so mild, and Mia’s face showed only curiosity, not suspicion. He decided that he didn’t mind if they knew a little more. “All over. After my grandmother died, I apprenticed with different prospectors, and they travel. A couple years ago I decided I could survive on my own.”
Dr. Lee remarked, “You very nearly didn’t.”
“Yeah, well.” Ross was trying to think of something polite to say when the door opened and a man walked in.
Mia’s chin came up, and her father rose. Ross eyed the newcomer, a big, tough-looking man whose blue eyes gleamed pale and startling in his brown face. He looked wealthy, with his silver-rimmed glasses, crisp new shirt, and shiny boots.
“There’s a doorbell, Tom,” Dr. Lee said.
“Oh, really, Dante? Didn’t notice it.” He helped himself to Mia’s chair.
As the doctor sat down again, he said, “Tom, this is Ross Juarez. Ross, this is Defense Chief Preston. Tom, what brings you here?”
Mr. Preston put his elbows on the table and examined Ross, eyes narrowed. There was the suspicion. “What news can you tell us?”
That was often the first question people asked in a town. Ross edged his chair back, wary of the man’s intense stare. “Nothing” was certainly going to be the wrong answer, but it was the only one he had.
“Been alone for a long time,” he began.
The stare turned into a squint of disbelief. “Are you Changed?” demanded Mr. Preston.
In Ross’s experience, if that was the second question, it meant the town was either all Norms and hated the Changed, or all Changed and didn’t welcome Norms. This had to be a Changed town. Stalling for time, he asked, “What’s your Change?”<
br />
Judging by the anger that tightened the defense chief’s face, Ross would have made a better impression if he’d slugged him. He grabbed the chair arm, ready to run.
“I’m normal, and I’m asking you,” Mr. Preston snapped.
Dr. Lee laid a hand on Ross’s shoulder. He flinched. The doctor removed his hand, but stayed close. His voice was calm and deliberate as he said, “Ross, you don’t have to answer. Unless the sheriff asks.”
Mia, standing by the door, nodded firmly.
They’re on my side, he thought. It was a strange feeling, but not a bad one.
Mr. Preston glared at all three of them. “She’ll be asking soon. You may as well answer me now.”
Mia joined her father beside Ross’s chair. “Ross is our guest. That means he’s got guest privilege.”
Mr. Preston got to his feet. “Are you sure you want to invoke that? You don’t know anything about this boy.”
Dr. Lee folded his arms across his chest. “I know that my daughter invited him. That’s good enough for me.” He turned to Ross. “Would you like to stay in Las Anclas?”
He had only just met the Lees, but he already liked them. He did want to learn to read, and it would be a good idea to live in relative safety until he could use his hand, at least a little. Maybe he could let Mia study his book for the week or two that should take. He didn’t usually stay anywhere that long, but—fresh hen eggs! “Sure, I want to stay.”
“Then we need to get you to school. Come on.” Mia moved toward the door.
Glad to leave the scowling defense guy behind, he followed her. “Thanks for the breakfast, Dr. Lee.”
As he left, he heard Mr. Preston say, “Dante, we have rules for a reason.”
Ross and Mia walked to a busy intersection marked with signs he couldn’t read, where they stopped for a cart pulled by armor-skinned bullocks. There were people everywhere, so many that it was impossible to keep them all safely within view, and they all either openly stared at him or pretended they didn’t. Children nudged one another and pointed. His shoulder blades crawled with the need to get a wall at his back.
“How big is this town?” His voice was soft, but everyone within earshot stared.
“Population one thousand sixteen,” Mia said with visible pride. “Including our newest citizens, Enrique and Esteban Carrillo, age three weeks.”
His attention was caught by a couple in pants and shirts the color of desert sand, walking quickly and with purpose. They bristled with weapons. Ross glanced enviously at the machete hanging from the belt of the teenage guy with the long braid. The woman with the rifle and bandolier was older, with gray-flecked hair, but from the way she moved, she was clearly just as dangerous. They glanced at him but didn’t break stride.
Ross waited until the pair had vanished around the bell tower, and the crowd had thinned out a bit. “Who were those people?”
“Defense Rangers.” Mia kept her voice low. “They used to be the sheriff’s Rangers. That guy who was bullying you, Mr. Preston? When he first came to Las Anclas, he and the two people he brought with him joined the Rangers—the woman you saw, Sera Diaz, and a man who got killed a while back. A couple of years later, there was trouble in town, and some Changed people were forced out, including two Rangers. Mr. Preston got himself elected sheriff, and he took charge. The Rangers are completely loyal to him. They’re all Norms, of course. If Mr. Preston had his way, this would be a Norm town.”
Ross stepped aside for a man in a wheelchair, and was almost run over by three kids chasing a rainbow-striped bright-moth. Cries of “Catch it, catch it!” faded behind them.
Mia went on. “He set it up so the job of sheriff wasn’t decided by election, like the rest of the important jobs. Since he was the sheriff and the defense chief, he had two votes on the town council. Between his votes and the mayor’s vote—did I mention his wife is the mayor?—he made it so sheriff is decided by duel.”
“Only sheriff?” Ross had heard that in Voske’s kingdom, duels determined every major position that might require fighting. Otherwise this town wasn’t like anything he’d seen there.
Mia nodded. “You saw how strong Mr. Preston is. I thought he’d be sheriff forever. But a couple months ago, Elizabeth Crow Changed. She challenged him and she beat him, fair and square. Well, maybe not fair by his standards.” She chuckled. “It was great. We all came to watch, right in front of the town hall.”
“She picked me up and ran me all the way here, didn’t she? How long did it take her to beat him?”
This was clearly one of Mia’s favorite memories. “However long one jump takes. She slammed him down on the ground, and pinned him so all he could move was his left hand to tap out.”
“Wish I’d seen it.”
The path was lined with pocket gardens overflowing with thriving vegetables and pungent herbs, surrounding the rows of low adobe buildings. There was no way Las Anclas was maintaining all these lush green gardens by squeezing water out of cactuses.
“Where do you get your water?” he asked.
“Off the hills.” Mia pointed eastward. “It took generations to build the pipes. There’s a couple of lakes at the highest point, and underneath us we’ve got a water table that fills every winter.”
“But it was desert outside your walls.”
“If you’d gone west instead of south, you’d have walked right into our cornfields.”
The thought that he could have easily saved himself and hadn’t disturbed him more than the fact that he’d nearly died. “All I had to do was go west?”
“Well, up a slope and west. You were walking along the bottom of a ridge. You can’t see the fields from where you were.”
“No,” Ross said slowly. “I wouldn’t have gone uphill. Not unless I’d known something was there.”
Animals tended to drift downhill when they were wounded or exhausted, instinctively taking the easiest course. Ross had often used that knowledge while hunting mule deer and javelinas and bighorn sheep. No doubt the bounty hunter had used it to track him.
Though he was sure he’d lost the man, he couldn’t help glancing around. He was reassured by the sight of the sentry wall rising above the jumble of buildings. “Did you say you have cornfields outside the walls?”
“And beans and squash and lots of other things,” Mia said proudly. “For ten years now. I keep having to repair the irrigation. But it’s a marvelous engineering project.”
Ross could see from the houses and fences how everything in Las Anclas was repaired and reused, but those luxurious gardens made it look prosperous.
“Don’t you get attacked for your crops? Don’t you worry about someone trying to take the town for himself?”
“Sure, we worry. King Voske tried before I was born. He tried again ten years ago too, but not with a full army. We’ve been attacked by bandit gangs and outlaws, but no one’s ever gotten inside the gates.”
Voske! Ross wished he’d never hear that name again.
7
Jennie
JENNIE WATCHED MOTES OF CHALK DUST SWIRL IN rays of morning light over the pale wood of the new teacher’s desk, incongruous before the battered desks that had been old when the present students’ great-grandparents had been children.
If she didn’t have to teach, she’d be on a Ranger mission now, side by side with Indra.
Jennie stretched out her hand and pulled with her mind. The worn slate that used to be Mia’s spun through the air and smacked into her hand.
I’m here.
There was no use wasting time thinking about what she wasn’t doing when she had plenty to do right now.
Beautifully articulated black cat claws pulled the door ajar, and Laura Hernandez poked her head in. “Hi, Jennie. Congratulations on your promotion.” Before Jennie could thank her, Laura added anxiously, “You’re still going to teach, aren’t
you?”
“Don’t worry—this just means that now I can patrol with the Rangers on weekends.”
“Good.” Laura let out her breath. “I’ll put out the practice mats.”
The door closed. Jennie gazed out the window, rubbing her thumb over the diagrams Mia had carved into the frame of the slate, back when they’d been students themselves.
As if summoned, Mia appeared from around the bell tower, her glasses winking in the sunlight, with a guy Jennie had never seen before. The mysterious stranger!
He stopped at the edge of the schoolyard. Mia kept walking, then noticed that he was hanging back and beckoned. He hesitated before following her. The way he moved, wary and light on his feet, reminded Jennie of a wild creature: not a herd or pack animal, but something solitary—maybe the bobcats she occasionally spotted on early patrols, with their watchful readiness to either fight or flee.
The students crowded around, and Alfonso Medina scurried halfway up a wall to get a better view. Jennie stepped onto the porch, hoping the school’s welcome wouldn’t scare the skittish boy.
The girls at the forefront had broken out their best clothes for the occasion of a stranger in town. Felicité was in the lead, wearing a particularly elegant sapphire dress. At her side was Sujata Vardam, in wine-red dimity and golden lace. Becky Callahan’s pink-and-white linen, trimmed with leaf-green ribbons, was her mother’s latest creation. Matching ribbons tied the bonnet she wore so she wouldn’t burn in the sun.
But it was tiny compared to Felicité’s broad-brimmed sun hat. Her skin was the same sun-friendly brown as her father’s, but she was obsessed with protecting her precious hair (and, Jennie suspected, her precious hair dye).
Jennie recalled her ma saying, “Felicité is a law unto herself.”
Her pa had added, “Her great-grandmother, the mayor before Brad Gutierrez, was a snappy dresser. I remember her from when I was a kid. She set a fashion for Chinese-style embroidery. My own pa had a waistcoat with dragons on it.”
Felicité was saying in her caramel tones, “Oh, you’re the new boy! I’m glad to see you out of the infirmary. Welcome to Las Anclas. I am Felicité Wolfe.” Had Jennie imagined the faintest emphasis on “Wolfe”?
Stranger Page 7
